


Beautiful Are The Feet (That Bring You To Me)

by HandsAcrossTheSea



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Come Sharing, Comeplay, Foot Fetish, Foot Jobs, M/M, complete and utter garbage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-07
Updated: 2016-09-07
Packaged: 2018-08-13 15:11:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7981105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HandsAcrossTheSea/pseuds/HandsAcrossTheSea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Really, Danny has enough to worry about, what with being a crime fighter and all.  The last thing he needs is a weird kink he didn't even ask for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beautiful Are The Feet (That Bring You To Me)

**Author's Note:**

> Don't look at me like that, don't talk to me, just... don't. I know what I did. Also this is in direct line with The Ga(y)tekeepers, so if you really want to read that one first, do - but it's not necessary. Mostly this was done as... self-satisfaction. LIKE I SAID DON'T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT.

          “Babe, can you hand me my socks?”

          Danny opens his eyes, jolted by the gentle bump of Steve’s shoulder against his own.  He grumbles in his throat, sitting up and handing Steve his socks where they’ve been drying on the warm hood of the Camaro.  The sunniest freaking day in a land of perpetual shine and Steve _had_ to go and find the only damp spot in Honolulu that wasn’t the beach.  Thus stalling them because “I can’t stand to have my feet wet inside my boots.”

          Pft.  And Steve complains about _Danny_ having petty issues.

          “Oh, are we finally able to go now?  The prince has deemed conditions good enough?”  Danny shoves him back, throwing off Steve’s attempt to get his sock back on his left foot.  He watches those careful fingers roll the sock down and just barely put them over his toes.  Fuzzy as the rest of Steve is, he doesn’t have hair on his feet.  Huh.  Danny’s never really noticed that before.

          Does he have overly long, weird toe hair, then?

          “Yes, we can go now – but I don’t know what you’re hurrying back to.  Nothin’ but paperwork at HQ, now that we booked this fucker.”  Steve resumes the all-important task of rolling his sock up his foot and alright, it’s a little overdone but it makes sense how he does it – wearing boots like he does, Danny supposes his socks need to be just so.

          Not to mention that Steve has really attractive ankles, too.

          That’s weird to notice, isn’t it?

          “I mean, I’d prefer some time with paperwork after bein’ out here in the fucking sun.  Makes me groggy.”  Hence nearly falling asleep on the hood – man, wouldn’t _that_ have given his husband something to pick at him over for the rest of the evening?

          “Words I’d never thought I’d actually hear you say.”  Steve wiggles his toes in his sock, checking for damp spots.  “Fuck – still wet.”

          “Well, if you’re gonna fuck, you need to be.”

          Danny’s over exaggerated grin and raised eyebrows do little to dispel the completely serious look on Steve’s face.  So what if his husband is an easy target sometimes, he has to get his shots in every now and then.

          “You’re a jerk, Detective Williams.”  Finally, Steve smiles and doesn’t even bother to put the other sock on before shoving his hand in to check for wet spots.  “This one’s no good either.”

          “Well I’d let you borrow mine but you _are_ the one who stumbled in a pothole up to his ankles.  Wonder you didn’t kill yourself.”

          “I did not _stumble_  - it just… caught me by surprise.”  Steve looks forlornly at his boots, sitting between his feet.  “I need to start packing extra socks.”

          Danny isn’t really listening to Steve’s self-serving griping – he’s watching Steve’s hairless, well-trimmed toes wriggle against the warm pavement.  It’s like they have a life of their own and hell, they’re as tan as the rest of him.  Danny can never seem to get rid of the permanent paleness of his own – not that he’s trying to let his piggies roast, probably some leftover mainlander thing.

          “Danno, up here.”  Steve nudges him again and Danny’s gaze swings up to meet the slightly perplexed gaze of his husband, those incredible eyes searching for why exactly Danny’s so intent on staring at the ground.

          “You know, you could just drive barefoot – or let me drive.”  Steve’s already gotten to play stunt driver today, and Danny for one would like a _leisurely_ trip back to HQ.  The paperwork will come slower if he does.

          Steve’s face scrunches up in thought, chewing that pretty bottom lip as he ponders his options.  “We stop for shaved ice on the way back and _you_ pay for it.”

          “Deal.”

          Which means he can get it from Leilani’s, instead of Steve’s usual favorite.  His place just doesn’t put enough syrup in their ice, and Danny doesn’t believe in a man being denied delicious, life-saving sugar water, not during late summer.

          Steve takes off his one sock and gets into the passenger side, adjusting the seat for his height as he hands Danny the keys.  “You need blocks to reach the peddles, babe?”

          Danny doesn’t say anything, just pinches Steve’s nipple through his shirt – which the fucker likes, because of course he does – and starts the car, easing them from their empty laundromat parking lot onto the road.

          Driving isn’t made easy, between the traffic and Steve’s completely unnecessary need to lay the seat back and stretch a little, making his shirt ride up and the sun come in across his lower belly.  Which Danny had put two fresh hickies on that morning.  Man, that had been nice, catching Steve all dripping wet from his swim and licking the salt right off of him.  He hadn’t even made it in the back door when Danny had caught him.

          “Think maybe you should put your weapons away – pretty sure I’ve been gunned down for a while.”  At a stoplight, Danny reaches over and lifts Steve’s shirt more, just to see the dark hair that dapples his belly and chest.  Steve lets him too, arms behind his head as he basks in the attention.

          “Haven’t even brought out the big guns yet – wanna stick around for those?”  Steve makes his abs flex and seriously, this drive was supposed to be _easy –_ Danny gets honked at for not speeding up right away.

          “I’m gonna report you back to the Navy for gross abuse of your troops.”  If Danny wasn’t busy, he’d shove his hand right down the front of Steve’s blue cargo pants and squeeze his goods for all they’re worth.  Which happens to be quite a lot.

          “No can do – I’m retired, remember?”  Steve holds up his left hand, wiggling his fingers back and forth, his thick black wedding ring really kind of beautiful against his work-worn skin.

          Fuck, now Danny wants his hands on him, or better yet, on his cock, getting come all over his- 

          Danny stops himself when he realizes he’s missed the turn for Leilani’s.  He does a hard u-turn at the next intersection and Steve lets out a stream of colorful swears.       

          “Yeah, sucks doesn’t it, being thrown around like a rag doll?”  Danny grins and reaches over to ruffle Steve’s hair, his fingers batted away and then held so that he can’t cause any more mischief.

          “That’s only fun at home when we’re naked.  Or not naked.  Just not here.”  Steve’s mock gruff-tone has Danny chuckling as they pull into the parking lot of Leilani’s.

          “Just you wait til we’re off-duty and I’ll have you looking like Raggedy Andy in no time.”  Danny unbuckles his seat belt just in time for Steve to pull him in by his tie down to face level, never mind the gear shift jabbing into his side.

          “That’s a promise, right?”  Steve licks his bottom lip and yeah, yeah that’s _definitely_ a promise.

          “Damn right it is.” 

          It’s the first time he’s kissed Steve this morning and whatever grumpiness he’s feeling evaporates the instant Steve’s fingers slide up the side of his face and hold the back of his head, making that familiar electric rush go spilling down his spine.  Hell, if it were up to Danny they’d stay right here in this parking lot until sundown and neck until their mouths were sore.

          Steve breaks the kiss and gently shoves Danny back.  “Get us ice, studmuffin, and you can lick my spoon.”

          “Is that a metaphor?”  He’s seriously asking.

          “I’ll decide later.”  Steve settles back and rolls the window down, clearly intent on remaining right where he is.  Lazy bastard.

          By the time Danny gets back to the car with two large ones – one pineapple for Steve, orange for himself – Steve looks very un-policeman like with his right foot propped on the side mirror and Zeppelin playing on the radio.  His foot taps the air along to the drumbeat, his toes flexing and curling in beautifully natural motion.

          Danny’s mouth waters, and his brain isn’t exactly moving fast enough as to why – but Steve’s toes look awfully _good_ right now and fuck all if he doesn’t want to… play with them. 

          He shakes himself out of it when he feels coldness running down his hand and Steve catches his eyes right as he’s licking it from his skin, turning red behind his sunglasses at his predicament.

          Hopefully Steve’s eyes are more on the massive boner he’s just popped, because if Steve knows he was salivating over his ridiculously sexy toes he might have died of shame.

          “Uh, here’s your…”  Danny hands Steve his ice through the window and walks back to his side of the car.  Steve’s already shoveled up a mighty spoonful, his mouth opened wide as he makes something close to an o-face when it hits his tongue.

          He’s probably not even _trying_ to turn Danny on right now – but it’s happening anyway.  And his shirt’s ridden up again.

          This isn’t the afternoon Danny had envisioned when he woke up that morning, certainly not in the “oh, I’ve possibly discovered a new kink because my husband’s weird about wet socks” realm of possibilities.  Throw in the absolutely pornographic sounds Steve’s making as he eats his ice and Danny’s suddenly become a ball of nerves and arousal.  He’s pretty sure Steve knows it, but he hasn’t deigned to say a word just yet.  Maybe he will back at HQ – it’s not like they’ve exactly stuck hard and fast to that whole “no fooling around at work” rule.  Steve’s oh so quick to use the justification of “we’re married” as cover for that particular deviance.

          Danny looks back over at him, his foot still stuck out the window and now still from the lowered volume of the radio.  Instead his toes curl of their own volition, little motions to keep his leg from going to sleep.

          “So are you gonna ride all the way back to HQ like that? I’d hate for you to clip one of your ridiculous giraffe legs on a mailbox or something.”  Roundaboutly calling attention to it makes Danny feel a little better, and Steve doesn’t seem to notice.

          “Of course not – that’d look good, wouldn’t it? Five-O needs to be responsible, and look it too.”  He retracts his leg and his feet end up in the floorboard – where they should be.  At least here Danny has a poorer view of them – out of sight, out of mind.  That solves it, right?  
          “You never look responsible.”

          “Pretty sure a thigh holster makes me look exactly as responsible as I need to be.”  Steve taps his left leg and yeah, like Danny hasn’t perved over those straps just barely holding onto his massive thigh in his time with Steve.  Maybe the foot thing is just part of a larger fixation on Steve’s lower half, period.

          “Yeah, okay – you just like people starting at your crotch, he who wears his badge right next to his dick.” 

          “No, I like it when _you_ stare at my crotch.”  Steve puts his spoon in his mouth so that he has a free hands to cup himself through his pants, pushing his bulge up between the spread of his thumb and forefinger.  Danny _feels_ precome wet his underwear, not even trying to be turned on further but here he is, completely at Steve’s mercy.  He has to think about gunshot wounds and bad teeth to keep himself from jumping Steve right there.

          “Consider this victory yours.”  Most of his ice has melted so he drinks it down in a few long pulls, ignoring the little “mmm” from Steve as he watches his throat bob. 

          Keep it in your pants, Steve.  Or better yet, don’t.

          Danny kind of wants to chase his ice with the salty taste of Steve’s come but he doesn’t express that in so many words, just starts the car and hopes Steve’s hand doesn’t try to roam further up his thigh than where it rests now, because he might actually have to receive a handy just to survive.

          Things don’t really improve back at HQ, as Steve hasn’t put his shoes back on yet, padding around the office with the legs of his still-damp pants rolled up so that his feet are just… there for anyone to look at.  Anyone meaning Danny, as neither Chin or Kono pay it the slightest amount of attention.  Bare feet don’t weird them out in the slightest, as they shouldn’t.

          Except Danny can’t get over how odd it is to see Steve’s toes against the hardwood flooring of the war room, normally safely and firmly ensconced in steel-toe boots or whatever as he directs, relates, explains, pivots.  No, there’s something _intimate_ at play here, because Steve’s bare feet mean they’re at home, in their kitchen or bed or on the private beach out back.  They’re sweetly incongruous, and Danny has to excuse himself to his office and pull down the blinds to that he can catch his breath.

          Not thirty seconds after closing the door, Steve sticks his head in and looks at him with worry.  “Babe, you okay?”

          Danny picks his head up off his desk and looks at Steve with as sincere a smile as he can muster.  “Your heat infested island just got to me a little more than normal today, don’t worry about it.  Seriously.”  _No, I want to put your fucking toes in my mouth and suck on them like they’re your gorgeous dick._

“Want me to grab you a water?”

          “Only if I get to watch _you_ drink it.”  Oh good, now he’s blatantly hitting on his husband within earshot of the rest of the team.  Super classy there Williams.

          “I’ll serve it with a side of report.”  Steve blows a kiss at him and off he goes, silently because _he isn’t wearing any fucking shoes._

          Danny wonders if he can rub one out before Steve comes back, sincerely in the hopes of surviving until they can get somewhere where he can give Steve’s body the proper attention it absolutely deserves.  He sneaks a quick hand into his pants, just to roll back his foreskin and fiddle with his frenulum piercing.  It proves to be a mistake, because he’s even harder and wetter now.

          Steve comes back right as he’s licking the evidence off his fingers and with what has to be a perfect imitation of a deer caught in headlights, saves himself by saying ”papercut.”

          His husband makes a good show of pretending to by it and goes over to the couch, tossing Danny a bottle of Aquafina.  “We get this done and we’re headed home for the day, I’m fuckin’ beat.”

          “Does that mean we’re not cooking tonight?”  Danny painfully hopes so – he has precisely one thing on his agenda tonight, and standing at the stove would just impede that. 

          “Unless you just really, really want to.  Something that doesn’t require a lot of attention.”  Steve wiggles his eyebrows and stretches out on the couch, his feet propped up on the arm like they fucking belong there.  Danny makes a small noise in the back of his throat, nearly snapping his pen in two from where he grips it so tightly.

          “Japanese requires nothing but a phone call… teriyaki chicken sound good?”

          Without looking up from his report, Steve says “it gives your spunk an interesting tang, but I’ll live.”

          So that’s at least one confirmed blowjob for Danny tonight.  Out of who many, who knows?

___

          The best way to ensure that Steve goes down – and stays down – is to fuck him until his bones rattle.  Danny’s gotten super good at it, because Steve likes it… vigorous.  Rough is what some would call it, but they kind of surpass that level of energy in lovemaking. 

          Thank God it doesn’t take long for Steve to be out, giving Danny one last sweet kiss after cleaning him up.  Naturally he falls asleep on top of Danny and really, he can’t be blamed for that.  Danny left him stretched and raw and leaking, his ass just as red as a ripe tomato from the repeated, _hard_ smacks Steve rather loudly encouraged him to give.  A righteous menace to the criminal underworld but a complete and utter sub in the privacy of his bedroom.  Hell, all it takes to get Steve’s motor running most days is a little flex of muscle and the jangle of handcuffs.

          That whole time, Danny had worked him over with his mouth, deliberately staying in safe zones, hitting hot spots, and hoping that keeping his tongue in Steve’s ass would take his mind off of those toes as they continually curled and stretched, completely helpless against the sensations that Danny had assaulted him with.  He’d even fucked him on his side, just to ensure not being able to see Steve’s feet.  Not an easy position considering their difference in size but it had worked like a charm, making both of them come so hard that Danny saw stars.

          Danny waits until Steve starts snoring to kiss the bicep he’s currently held down under (not arm, because that ends somewhere to his right) and slips out, picking up his discarded underwear from the floor and carefully avoiding the squeaky board on his side of the bed.  Steve’s t-shirt is at the top of the stairs and he puts that on too, letting its volume swallow him and Steve-smell envelop him.  It’s gunpowder, sweat, and Irish Spring all rolled into one and Danny keeps his nose in the collar as he goes to the kitchen for a drink of water – fucking Steve is thirsty, demanding work.

          He drinks one glass and then fills another, taking it to the living room and retrieving his tablet from underneath Steve’s discarded pants. (Things had started on the couch right after dinner.  Well, actually while Steve was _ordering_ dinner but self-control has taught Danny not to let on to the Japanese take-away that his cock is in his husband’s mouth.)

          Steeling his nerve, he unlocks the screen and puts his browser in incognito mode, double checks that he still hears Steve’s snores coming from upstairs, and begins to fulfill his curiosity.

          He goes to his favorite amateur porn site and searches “foot fetish.”

          Unsurprisingly, there are about a million different videos – he knows feet are a thing, but didn’t realize they were _that_ big of a thing.  He picks one that doesn’t look too bad, good quality video, about a minute in length.  The guy’s not even naked, just sitting on his bed with the camera pointed at his toes, the sun illuminating them as he flexes and curls them, wiggling each one in turn.  Danny feels himself and nope, he’s not even close to hard.

          Maybe it’s just Steve’s feet he’s got a thing for all of a sudden?

          He watches a couple more vanilla ones like that.  Some don’t even have feet doing anything, just… doing what feet do, namely standing, crossed at the ankles, that sort of thing.  He avoids the ones where footwear gets sexualized – he loves a nice pair of Oxfords but hell if he’s going to bring one into bed and masturbate all over it.  No, it’s definitely Steve’s bare feet that do it for him.

          The next page yields things like “rubbing baby oil” and “come all over my toes.”  His interest perks up a little and alright, there’s something more than a little sensual about watching a twink rub oil all over his pretty, narrow (hell, _painted)_ toes, his hard cock twitching all by itself just out of the focus of the camera.  It’s not like they’re inherently gross or anything, a part of the body like an ear or forearm, and he knows good and well that Steve takes care of his.

          Danny pushes that bundle of thoughts to the back of his mind and refocuses on his tablet, tapping on a video that looks more promising then others.

          Once it loads, his breath is stolen away.  This is a full body video, complete with face and everything.  Hell, take the beard away and put a couple more tattoos on him and the guy in it could be Steve.  Fully engaged, Danny pulls the screen closer to his face and does his best to not miss a thing.

          It starts off with the guy massaging the arches of his feet, his leg hair damp from the shower – Danny can almost see the steam coming off of him.  The longer he touches his feet, the harder his cock gets, not even having a hand on himself to get there.  No, this guy is just as hot for his feet as he is for anything else, it appears.  Before he knows it, Danny’s hand is inside his shorts, stroking his cock and mentally replacing the guy in the video with Steve.  God, Steve gets so fucking into touching his own cock that he can only imagine what this would be like, those strong, sure hands moving over the curves and angles of his instep, his ankles, his aggravatingly pretty toes.  Danny’s mouth waters and he considers going upstairs right then to try and talk him into doing just that.

          He also doesn’t want a grouchier-than-normal Steve on his hands tomorrow, so he stays put, and keeps on with his little fantasy.

          The whole massage thing goes on for another five minutes before the killer move comes – the guy leans down and in an amazing show of flexibility, brings the toes of his right foot to his mouth and sucks on them like they’re fucking candy.  Steve’s dick gets that much harder and really, watching this guy’s balls pull up from being so turned on sends him into overdrive – he knows for a fact that Steve can get his legs pretty high and fuck all if that’s not an image that goes straight into the spank bank.

          Danny watches the video two more times before moving on, soon finding a lot of videos where there’s come on feet, or someone else does it for them.  Danny could be that guy, knowing his come is thick and pretty enough to make a beautiful contrast with Steve’s tanned skin.  He latches onto that, watches a video of two guys _fucking_ each other’s feet, getting them so wet with come and lube that they have to lick it all up so they can stand.

          He ends up creaming the inside of his shorts to that and swallows the reality he’s faced with – he likes feet, and there’s no way around it.  Well, maybe it’s still mostly just a thing for Steve’s but hey, it’s not the first time he’s come to a particular fetish in a freaky way.  Rachel introduced him to hair-pulling and that was completely by accident, too. (Thinking of Rachel in a sexual context now is a real dick-shrinker but the kink remains.)

          Danny goes to the laundry room and throws their clothing in the washer, Steve’s pants and all.  Now he’s just faced with the difficult part – how on earth does he say with a straight face “Steve Williams, dearest, sexiest husband of mine, can I suck on your toes for a while?”

          Yeah, that’s gonna be one to puzzle over during daylight hours, not when he’s still high on orgasm and a crushing need for rest.  Maybe Steve will be cooler about it than he imagines – they’ve certainly indulged each other enough, wearing panties, jockstraps, playing with bondage, roleplaying the shit out of every fucking thing – what are feet in the grand scheme of kinks?

          Hopefully, one Steve will agree to, because Danny’s need is only going to get more intense from here.

          When he gets back to bed, Steve’s exactly where he left him and Danny replaces himself under his arm exactly like he was before.

          Well, almost – he snuggles up to Steve as closely as he can and within two minutes, is gone to the world.

___

          Danny forgets all about his new obsession for a few weeks, as the Big Island explodes with every imaginable crime, and even some that Danny hadn’t encountered before. 

It absolutely sucks, because he almost gets shot sixteen times, three bullets graze him, Steve nearly breaks all of his limbs jumping across a building, and the added stress leaves them both with extremely short fuses.  They yell at each other more in that time than they have during the whole of their relationship and while Danny knows full well it’s just a reaction to their shitty situation, it still makes him feel bad.  He sees it in Steve’s face with every harsh they exchange, because they banter and argue, yes – but it’s never, ever ugly, not like this. 

Part of it’s born out of care for Steve, because marriage hasn’t changed his self-destructive streak in the least – and Danny knows good and well it’s because they’re both getting older.  Steve turned forty two earlier in the year and it had been… traumatic.  He wants to push and push and push himself – fine.  But Danny knows he doesn’t take the extra-strength joint pain pill with his supplements every day just for the hell of it.

Danny started police work when he was twenty, which means he’s not far off from twenty five years.  Maybe retirement needs to start being considered seriously, or at least letting someone else handle the heavier stuff.  His last couple physicals hadn’t resulted in the most promising news, with phrases like “less mobility” and “too much strain” being on the report.

They’re sobering thoughts, to say the least.  That they’re playing on his mind as Danny shoves their latest perp into the back of the cruiser speaks volumes, just as loudly as the lack of Steve’s characteristic “book ‘em, Danno.”

God, Danny’s been treating his husband like shit, and he absolutely doesn’t deserve it.  Neither of them do.  Even sleeping in the same bed – when they’ve been able to get it – has been distant, and neither of them have really been in the mood to touch each other. Hell, not even so much as a peck on the lips. 

Danny takes his sunglasses off, willing to squint against the late afternoon Hawaiian sun – he needs Steve to see his eyes.   He walks over to where Steve’s talking to the HPD SWAT team leader, and clears his throat.

Both look at him, and Danny wishes he were just a couple inches taller.  “May I have a word with Commander Williams?”

HPD guy nods, and the way Danny’s feeling he and Steve may as well be the only people on earth right now.

“So I was thinking maybe uh…”  Danny has to stop and refocus his thoughts, because Steve’s face had started to soften as soon as he’d started talking.  The air between them feels way too thick, and really, Danny isn’t the best at Serious Conversations – he’s counting on that intuitive McGarrett ability to read his thoughts to save him just a little here.  “Thinking that maybe we could, you know, maybe go take a walk on the beach when we’re done here?  You know, just to make sure everything’s okay over there uh… if you wanted to.  You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

_Fucking hell, Danny, he’s your goddamn husband, not the girl you’re asking to prom._

          Steve tries and fails to not smile, and Danny’s chest starts to feel better right away.  “Yeah, I’m sure HPD would like a little help with beach patrol.  The boys in blue always need that sort of back-up.”

          Danny doesn’t make a habit of PDA in front of other cops, but right at the moment he’s trying his hardest not to break that rule.  He hasn’t said _I’m sorry_ yet and neither has Steve, and he’d rather do that where he can express that more fully.

          “You know, the waterfront is only a couple blocks away if you wanted to get a jump start.”  Danny can hear the ocean and automatically, it brings images of a speedo-clad Steve cutting through the water in powerful strokes, water streaming over that incredible body and making his muscles gleam.

          “Sounds good, Danno.”

          There it is, the nickname and the little smile and honestly, it doesn’t take that much courage to take Steve’s hand in his own as they walk away.  It feels even better when Steve grips his back and nudges his shoulder a little.

          “It has been a minute since I’ve felt the sand between my toes – think anyone will get mad if I took my shoes off?”  Steve winks at Danny as he bends down to unlace his boots.  “I know we’re still on duty but…”

          “I think people would be upset if you left them on.  Wearing shoes on the beach just… looks weird.”  Danny does the same and rolls his pants legs up his calves, watching Steve do the same. 

          It doesn’t take but a moment for him to remember his fixation, especially when Steve’s toes fidget against the warm sand.  Long days of no intimate contact manifest as heat in his belly and Danny finds himself wanting a lot more.

          He just has to make sure Steve is on the same page first.

          Boots in his right hand, Steve takes Danny’s hand in his left and they walk along the edge of the water, silent for a while.  Danny doesn’t mind it, because there’s not yelling, no sirens, no gunshots or illegally fast speedboats.  Just himself and Steve.  Steve keeps rubbing his thumb over the back of his knuckles, a comforting little gesture that probably does just as much for Steve as it does for Danny. 

          Steve stops walking when Danny catches his thumb and holds it to his skin.

          “Steve, look, I’m sor-“

          “Forgiven, babe.”

          Steve’s on him so fast that Danny nearly drops his shoes in the water, Steve’s massive arm wrapped tightly around his body, keeping them pulled together hard enough that _all_ of his muscles feel even better than normal.  Danny’s free hand automatically travels down Steve’s spine to the small of his back, sneaking up under his t-shirt and scraping his blunt nails across his skin – that gets Steve’s attention _really_ fast.

          “Put your tongue in my mouth or I swear I’ll push you in the water.”

          Danny gets kissed so hard that his head spins, and it’s one of those kisses that makes it feel like the ground is disappearing from underneath him, heat trapped in the non-existent space between their bodies.  Danny normally teases Steve’s tongue to his but not now, not when the raw need is so strong.

          Just in case Steve hasn’t clued in yet on how sorry Danny is, he sucks his tongue out of his mouth and draws it back into his own, wriggling his fingers down past the hold of Steve’s belt and into his underwear, touching his ass and doing his best to reach Steve’s hole.  He doesn’t get very far, because Steve’s promptly dragging him up the beach towards a clump of trees.  God knows what’s even in them.

          Danny stops him before they can get too far – he is _not_ going to get jungle foot because they couldn’t make it home.  “Steve, babe, why don’t we just go home?”

          Steve looks longingly at the trees, back to Danny, and then to the trees again.  “Fine.”  He honestly sounds defeated – but he also knows that Danny’s right.

          They make it home in record time, and Steve doesn’t even bother to put his shoes back on, adding to Danny’s frustration – he’s still just as hot for those feet as he was when all of this started.  Maybe after he’s made Steve come his brains out he’ll spring that on him.  Or not.  Just depends on how everyone is feeling at that point in time.

          Once in the door, Steve lifts Danny and they don’t make it any further than the couch, with Steve turning so that Danny is lying on top of him and there are hands _everywhere,_ groping, cupping, kneading, tearing at clothes that remain stubbornly in place.  Each kiss pulls Danny under like he’s drowning, and Steve’s tongue doesn’t seem to know how to quit.  Danny sucks on it so hard that he’s afraid he’ll bruise something but Steve’s insatiable, the taste of his mouth and neck and chest driving Danny absolutely _mad._

“We need to get naked, babe – fuck all if I’m wasting this load in my shorts.”  Danny’s only managed to get Steve’s t-shirt pushed up, but even that’s not enough.

          Steve groans, feeling Danny grind against him – they’ve been doing that for a while and Danny knows full well that Steve has to be dripping wet by now.  “Yeah, let’s… yeah.”

          Danny doesn’t even care that he rips a few buttons getting his shirt off – they can be replaced.  Steve’s pants split a little down the seam in his enthusiasm to get them off, taking his boxer briefs with them.  It’s mesmerizing to hear and see Steve’s hard cock smack against his stomach, the head glistening with precome and his veins throbbing.  That’s all the convincing that Danny needs – they can fuck later, but first Steve’s going to come in his mouth.  Preferably at the same time he does the same in Steve’s.

          Which gives him the best idea he’s had all day.

          The moment his socks are gone, Danny climbs back on top of Steve and straddles his chest backwards, giving Steve a full view of his ass if he wants it – only for Steve to bypass him completely and go right for his cock, yanking on Danny’s hips so that gravity and those trademark cock sucking skills can be put into action.  The first swirl of his tongue around the head of his cock has Danny almost forgetting what he’s supposed to be doing – until he sees Steve’s feet move in an effort to make himself more comfortable.

          Yeah, this isn’t going to be an orgasm he forgets right away.

          Transference is a bitch but when Danny goes down on Steve’s cock, he keeps his vision glued to his toes.  The harder he sucks on him, the more active they are, curling in to where they touch the soles of his feet, little bits of dried sand still between them.  Steve doesn’t seem to notice that he’s doing a lot more work than Danny – give him a cock to put in his mouth and Steve forgets about everything else – which gives Danny plenty of time to watch.

          Except for when Steve jabs his tongue under his foreskin and makes it feel like he’s going to suck his piercing right out of place, yeah that kind of makes Danny close his eyes and remember he’s supposed to be working towards having come in his mouth.  Which is about to happen to Steve if he plays his cards right.

          Danny finally gives up on watching things he shouldn’t and keeps the focus of his attention on the head of Steve’s dick, jerking him with a sharp twisting motion that he knows will have Steve trembling in no time.  He tongues at his slit, lapping up precome and inhaling as he does, Steve’s scent overwhelming him to the point of dizziness.

          Steve comes without warning, so lost is Danny in blowing him.  He doesn’t know if Steve’s managed to jerk off in the last few days or not, because it’s a lot, it’s extremely salty, and Danny doesn’t swallow, not unless he wants Steve mad at him again. 

          All it takes for Danny to follow Steve over that edge is a glance at his legs, his feet stretched out and his toes spaced so far apart that it looks like he’s going to cramp.  He feels and hears Steve choke on his come, thick enough that it flows out of Steve’s mouth and down his cheeks.  Danny turns around just in time to watch him milk out the last few drops, collapsing on top of him and swapping with him like his life depends on it. 

          “You are really, really, _really_ forgiven.”  Steve looks serene, his face wet with come and spit as he looks up at Danny.  “And also you need a lot of pineapple.”

          “Sorry, my crop isn’t ripe yet – and look who’s talking, salt of the earth.”  With his foot, Danny rubs his toes alone the arch of Steve’s right one.  “And I’m sore as hell, so you’re getting Ma Williams’ Famous Stew for supper.”

          “That a promise?”

          “Ride me while it’s cooking and I’ll make a second pot just for you.”

          It’s still not getting to worship his feet, but Danny will absolutely settle for watching everything else flex and sweat.

___

          Steve is missing.

          That’s not inherently unusual, as he tends to wander off without telling anyone and most of the time, he comes back a couple hours later.  Sometimes it’s to do interrogation he doesn’t want Danny to see, or to perhaps have a chat with the governor.  These are things that Danny doesn’t really see any cause to worry about, because usually _someone_ knows where he is.  Aggravatingly, that isn’t the case right now.  Neither Chin or Kono have details to his whereabouts, and Danny’s starting to get a little concerned.  Steve had left not ten minutes after arriving that morning, and it’s pushing four o’clock, leaving Danny to finish not only his paperwork but Steve’s as well.  He’d say it’s because he’s an awesome partner and husband but the reality is he needs something to keep himself from continually worrying.

          He’s putting the finishing touches on his next to last report when Kono knocks on his door frame.

          “Message for you.”  She approaches with a sticky note and hands it to Danny, trying to contain a smile.

          “What’s so funny?”  Taking the note from her, he sees that Steve’s less than legible hand writing has rubbed off on his protégé – oh well.  It just says “come home, babe.”

          Alright.

          “Why didn’t he just get in touch with me?”

          Kono shrugs and crosses her arms.  “Your man, Danny, not mine – but he said to add that it was urgent.”  She’s still smiling and alright, Danny’s starting to think that he shared some unsavory detail about their sex life.  Not that Kono would have to do much guessing, giving the hickies that he and Steve are constantly bearing.

          Danny looks at his computer screen, then to Kono, then to the note she handed him.  “He didn’t sound like he was in danger, was he?”

          “Yeah, because a former SEAL is going to just let a burglar into his house.  No, Danny, he actually sounded, uh…”

          “Yes?”

          “Like he… needs you.”  Kono blushes and backpedals quickly, leaving Danny with a thousand different thoughts – most of which having to do with Steve’s naked body.

          As quietly as he can, Danny slips out and heads home.  There are only a couple different ways this could go, both ending in the same sort of situation.        

          Steve must hear him pull up, because he receives a text right when he gets to the door that says “bedroom.”  Danny takes the stairs two at a time, only slowing at the threshold as he pushes the door open.

          Good news – Steve’s there, whole and unharmed.  Better news – he’s not wearing a shirt, looks fresh out of the shower, and has his back to Danny, looking in the mirror and as Danny’s gaze pans down his body, he realizes that there’s a jockstrap peeking out of the top of his unbelted jeans.  Fucking _jeans –_ Steve doesn’t wear those unless he really, _really_ wants Danny’s cock in him.  He doesn’t need the belt, either – Steve’s ass is holding them up just fine.

          In other words, Steve called him home because he wanted to get nailed, and just to make sure Danny was on board with the idea, put on his “I want sex” clothes.  Alright.

          “Soooo you’ve been busy, I assume?”  Danny approaches and Steve straightens turning around to face him with a hungry look.  Yeah, this is going to be _nasty._

“Yeah.”  He meets Danny halfway and puts his arms around him, not giving him a kiss just yet.  “But there’s something I need to talk to you about, detective.”

          How serious this talk is going to be…

          “Go ahead.”

          “Why didn’t you just tell me you wanted to do… foot stuff.”

          All of a sudden, it feels like the floor is trying its best to swallow Danny.  Steve’s not looking at him like he’s a freak, thank God, just like he’s been out of the loop on information he _really_ wanted to hear.

          Danny remains speechless, and Steve walks them back to the bed so that Danny can sit in his lap.  “I know you think you’re subtle, but it was obvious you haven’t exactly been looking crotch-wards and salivating lately.”

          “Excuse you, but I still _very_ much salivate over that.”  Speaking of, Steve’s got a boner and a half right now, and it’s pressed up against the bottom of Danny’s thigh.  “And I didn’t tell you because it’s… weird.  Who the fuck looks at their guy out of the blue one day and thinks ‘hey, I want to violate your toes.’ ‘S weird.”

          “Well Danno, you do _exactly_ that – and come on, I’m your fucking _husband._ You gotta tell me this shit.”  Gently he kisses Danny on the lips, and Danny relaxes for the first time since setting foot in the house.  “You know I’m up for anything with you.”

          “Yeah, I know, just… I didn’t know how to broach the subject.”  Danny wiggles himself against Steve’s dick and he realizes they really should do something about that.  “But since you figured it out all on your own…”

          “Guess that means the pedicure I got this morning won’t go to waste.”  Steve slides out from under Danny, now frozen in place and becoming more aroused by the second – not only has Steve picked up on his secret, but now he’s fucking _inviting_ him to act upon it.  Now that’s love right there.

          “Pedi… pedicure?”  Danny finally moves and drinks in the sight of Steve, all stretched out and beautiful before him.

          “Yeah – wanna see?”  Steve holds up his left foot and yep, those toenails look incredible, all the dead skin scraped off the bottoms and his soles looking pristine.  Danny swallows, starts to say something, and then swallows again.

          “Uh…”

          “It’s okay, babe – you aren’t going to do anything that’ll freak me out, I swear.”  Steve flicks the button of his jeans undone and no, Danny doesn’t think he can do anything to assail his confidence right now.

          “Just one…”  Danny jumps off the bed, strips off his clothes and is on Steve in an instant, kissing down the centerline of his body until he’s at his feet, sitting on his haunches, just waiting for Steve to tell him he’s a weirdo and that he should go back to dreaming.

          Except he doesn’t even as he runs his fingers over the veins in the tops of Steve’s feet, Steve’s hand shoved into his jeans and stroking himself, just _waiting_ for Danny to put his mouth on him.

          “I swear if you kick me in the face I will put sugar in your gas tank.”  Danny raises Steve’s right foot to his mouth and slow, gently, kisses up from his heel to the bottom of his big toe.  Steve doesn’t move, just watches, doing the same as Danny as they both adjust to what exactly this is going to be like.

          “Take my jeans off, babe.” 

          Danny helps him out, leaving him with a superb view of Steve’s ass and hard cock, sticking out of the side of the pouch and shiny-wet with precome.  He keeps his thumb and forefinger on the tip, teasing himself as Danny licks the bottom of his big toe, anticipating Steve to reflex and pull away.

          Instead, he doesn’t move a muscle.  They make eye contact and just like he’s going down on Steve, swallows that toe and the one next to it, swirling his tongue in the space between them and rubbing his instep.

          Steve moans so loudly that Danny thinks he just came.

          “Fuckin’ hell, baby, that feels fucking _good._ ”

          That at least is encouraging, and eases Danny’s nerves even further.  Watching Steve jerk himself off while he does it is even better, and in turn every single toe receives the same attention, enough so that spit drips down Steve’s legs by the time he has to pull of to at least touch his own aching cock.  He’s in a wet patch of his own precome, _ridiculously_ turned on by how well Steve’s handling this.

          It only gets worse when Steve hands him their bottle of massage oil and gives him a “fuck me” look so intense that Danny’s heartbeat accelerates into overdrive.  He starts towards Steve’s ass but is stopped by his right foot in the middle of his chest.

          “Not me, babe – I want to watch your cock slide between my feet.  I’ve got this covered.”  On the word “this” Steve pulls out his dildo and starts to tease his hole with it – he’s absolutely trying to kill Danny today, like so dead no amount of necromancy could bring him back.

          “Yeah, I… I can do that.  Holy fucking _shit_ I can do that.”  He nearly drops the bottle in the process of lubing himself and Steve’s feet up, between the _I’m about to fucking do this_ thought process making him stupid with desire and watching Steve finger himself open for his dildo.  Yeah, that’s an image that’s going to stick with him forever right there.

          Steve gets his dildo halfway inside his ass before he looks at Danny and nods, his grip on Steve’s feet as tight as he can make it.  He _has_ to hold himself splay legged, keeping his ass raised for Danny to see him fuck himself.

          “You’re a gem, Steve, seriously.”  Danny slides his cock in and out, the oil making it far more slippery than normal lube.  “Gonna come all over these fuckin’ pretty feet, you have no idea.”

          Steve grins at him, shoving his dildo a little deeper.  “Think I have a pretty good one, babe.  Kinda hot watching your cock like this, knowing that’s how hard you are when you’re inside me.” 

          “Keep talking like that and you’ll know how I come inside you, too.”  Danny fucks a little harder, the excitement of the occasion having him a lot closer a lot faster than normal.  “You better fuck yourself a little deeper than that, baby, or I might have to show you how to do it properly.”

          “Yes, sir.”  Steve licks his lips, wetting them so that they shine and goes to town on himself and first-hand, Danny gets to feel those toes curl and flex as he finds his prostate over and over again. It’s a beautiful image, his ass stretched and red around his toy, stroking his cock with these long, expert strokes that make Danny want to be there – but not before he fulfills his fantasy first.  Round two can be normal.

          “Got me so fuckin’ close, Steve.”  Danny picks up the pace, his foreskin pulled back so that every time he fucks back in between Steve’s feet, the still rough edges of the balls of his feet catch the sensitive skin and drive him wild.

          “Yeah, that’s it babe, gonna come with you, yeah?  Right fuckin-”

          Steve doesn’t get the chance to finish, his dildo shoved in up to its base as he comes all over himself, writhing and moaning, taking Danny right along with him.  Steve’s feet get covered, the oil he was using as lube making come drip everywhere, leaving Steve – and himself – a mess.

          For a moment, they just look at each other, both of them a sweaty, trembling mess.  Danny rubs Steve’s legs, catching his breath and trying to figure out what exactly to say.

          Steve saves him by running his fingers through the mess of come on his toes and sucks them clean, inviting Danny to do the same.  Sucking on them _after_ the fact is way better, treating them like Steve’s cock and he’s trying to get every last drop.

          “So… does this mean you’re gonna get hot every time I’m barefoot?”  Steve’s cuddled up to Danny’s side, drying come still clinging to the edges of his mouth as they rest before whatever else the evening might contain.  Danny really, really hopes it’s more of the same, because that was insane and Steve has that “I’ve found a new thing to torture you with” look in his eyes.

          Oh well.

          “Yeah, you go ahead and get your hopes up there babe.”  Danny chuckles and kisses his cheek, making Steve hum contentedly.  “Nothing says ‘do me’ like your dogs smelling like ass after a day of crime fighting.”

          “Oh, so you only like them if they’re clean?”  Steve teases and rolls over on top of Danny, grinding their hips together – looks like round two is now.

          “What, did you think I’d actually stick your toes in my mouth after you’ve inevitably stepped in something gross?”  It’s difficult to keep his argument strong when Steve’s rubbing their dicks together – unfair bastard.

          “I mean, you _do_ love me, right?”

          As Danny pulls Steve into a messy kiss, he can’t help but think that his husband sometimes asks, really, _really_ dumb questions.

         

         

**Author's Note:**

> I am also still not writing their first time after the mountain top - use your imagination, since the comment will inevitably be made. You know who you are.


End file.
